The Manipulation Games 3: Rebellion
by Spectrobes Princess
Summary: When Johanna Mason first joined the rebellion, she didn't realize just how much it would cost her. Now with her family dead, the victor alliance destroyed, and little to no chance of escaping the Capitol, Johanna will do whatever it takes to protect what remains of the rebellion- no matter what the cost. Sequel to another fic but can be read on its own. Johanna POV of Mockingjay.
1. Card Houses

6/19/17

…..

The Manipulation Games 3: Rebellion

Chapter One: Card Houses

…

Trust. It's such a fragile thing, really. Like a house of cards. Have you ever built a house of cards? It's not nearly as easy as it looks. Trust me, I've been watching Peeta and Annie do it half a million times over the past few days. The thing is, cards are flimsy and small, hardly a decent foundation for a masterpiece. Kind of like people.

But eventually, you do build that trust. It starts small, only a few rows of cards high perhaps, but eventually it begins to grow. Before you know it, you've made something spectacular. A house higher than any other you've ever built. A friendship more precious than any other. But as hard as it is to build these card houses, all it takes is a slip of hand to destroy them forever.

I'm painfully reminded of this as the card house Peeta and Annie have spent the past forty-five minutes on collapses at it's base, sending cards flying off the table in every direction. The two younger victors scramble to do damage control, but it's already too late. Far too late. Just like it is for me.

It wasn't Peeta's fault the cards fell, even though he was the one about to place a card. Nor was it Annie's fault for not catching it on the way down. Sometimes, it's the cards' fault. Which sounds crazy when you think about it. I mean, you were the one building it, so you should take responsibility for your actions. But still, not your fault. You were careful, meticulously placing cards at just the right places and angles. You treated your creation with utmost care and attention. No, it couldn't possibly be your fault. It must have been the cards, buckling under the pressure of the world.

But sometimes, it wasn't the cards' fault either. Sometimes, they too were trying their best to accomplish the task given to them. Perhaps they got confused, and assumed they were supposed to be somewhere you didn't want them to be. In that case, the blame goes to neither of you. It must have been the fault of an outside source. Maybe it was the wind, maybe it was your little cousin running into the room and startling you, but whatever it was doesn't matter. The house, or trust, is gone forever. And even if you rebuilt it, it will never be exactly the same as it was.

Maybe that's why I don't blame Enobaria and Brutus for what happened in the Quell anymore. Sure, I'm angry at Enobaria for allowing herself to be tricked so easily. For all the damage the ignorance of her and her husband caused. But I'm more angry at Plutarch, and ultimately he is the one to blame for all of this.

Ever since I found out how Plutarch manipulated the career victors into thinking that our plan to break out of the arena was in shambles, I've found it hard to believe I ever trusted him to begin with. But it all makes sense now. Enobaria and Brutus's kills in the bloodbath, Nero's ominous phone call, even Plutarch reassigning Blight and I to ally with District 3 rather than District 1. All for the sake of realism, to trick the Capitol into thinking these Games were real. He played us all like puppets, the same way Snow does.

And who's paying for it? Not Plutarch, who is safely tucked away in District 13, safely supervising the rebellion from a distance while Enobaria, Annie, Peeta, and I are trapped in the Capitol, forced to be Snow's pawns in whatever way he so chooses. While Shey, Angus, Mags, Cashmere, Gloss, Brutus, and the others are dead. Even my father, the only person in the world left that I truly loved, is dead because of him. Sure, there are still those who I care about. Finnick, Annie, Ava. But it's not the same. Blight may not have been much, but he was still family. And even though he'd messed up in the past, we were still able to love and forgive each other.

I doubt I'll ever be able to say the same for Plutarch.

…

 **Hi again! For those of you who read the other fics in the series, it's good to have you back! I hope you like this one even more than you did the others.**

 **For those of you who haven't read my other fics, it's nice to meet you! This story is technically part of a series, but I'm going to try and write it in a way that it also works as a stand alone, so you shouldn't necessarily need to go back and read the others. I tend to info dump in the author notes anyways, and if there's still any details you're unsure of just ask!**

 **Due to the nature of the source material, I'm going to start putting trigger warnings at the beginning of particularly graphic chapters (although there probably won't be anything horrifically graphic, given that my mother would kill me if I were to write anything above a T rating). So with that in mind, if there's anything you need a heads up on just let me know and I'll take note of it.**

 **Quote of the day!**

" _This too will pass. It may pass like a kidney stone, but it too will pass."_ -Tumblr post

 **May the odds be ever in your favor,**

 **~Spectrobes Princess**


	2. Oleander

7/22/17

 _Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games or anything else I may mention_

 **Hi again! Sorry it has taken me so long to update this thing. Life's been stressful lately, and it's a miracle I've managed to post today of all days (more on that later though). Thanks for being patient with me!**

 **Thank you everyone who has followed and reviewed! It means a lot to me to know that people are enjoying my story :)**

… **.**

 **The Manipulation Games 3: Rebellion**

 **Chapter 2: Oleander**

… **..**

"That last night- well, to tell you about that last night…"

I lay my head on the railing of the interview center balcony, zoning out of Peeta's much anticipated interview with Caesar. I remember my own interview, so long ago. I was more wide eyed and optimistic back then, before the death of my mother. And now, so soon after my father's demise, I feel as though even more of my innocence has been ripped from me.

It's a slight relief to see Peeta here, alive and well. A group of "Peace" keepers came came and got him a few hours ago, assumingly to take him for interview prep. A little heads up on where they were taking him would've been nice, seeing as they sent Annie into hysterics. Then again, expecting Peacekeepers to think things through sensibly would be too much to ask.

I would never admit it out loud, but it's good to see Enobaria here too. None of us have seen her since she explained Plutarch's betrayal to me. She seems torn up about it, though it may just be grief over Brutus's death. It's odd, realizing that her shortsightedness cost her something as well. When Peeta recalls killing Brutus, she doesn't even react the way she would've pre-Quarter Quell. Instead, she sits silently in her chair, eyes downcast.

"What does your heart tell you?" Caesar asks Peeta in response to his vague statement of how he didn't know of Haymitch's involvement in the rebellion. I bite my lip nervously. I warned him not to say anything about the rebellion if asked, but who knows if he'll listen? Besides, surely he has friends and a family back in District 12. He's not like me. There are still people he doesn't want to lose, and it's selfish to expect him to make the same choice my rash 16 year old self did.

"That I shouldn't have trusted him. That's all."

The quote brings Plutarch to mind for me rather than Haymitch, though in a way I can feel his pain. We both trusted someone with our lives who didn't tell us all the facts, and look where it got us.

"Johanna?" Annie mumbles. "Do you think they'll be done soon?"

I scoff, reclining into my seat. "Well scatterbrain, they'll be done whenever Snow finishes fluffing up his ego. Which could be never, so I'd get comfy."

Annie nods, following my lead and reclining back in her own chair. The seats are surprisingly comfortable, but then again it's the Capitol and you could probably take a nap on a table if for some deranged reason you wanted to. I almost find myself drifting off to sleep, before I notice the helmet-less Peacekeeper standing guard at the end of my row.

He shows me the smug, ugly beyond all reason smirk that has plagued my existence ever since I was a teen, and I make sure to sneer back at him. He knows he's in power here, and it makes me somehow hate him even more.

The Capitol Anthem begins to play, successfully diverting my attention back to the stage. A pair of guards march onstage, standing on either side of Peeta to escort him out. Soon, another pair marches away with Enobaria and a reluctant Annie, leaving me with the world's second ugliest Peacekeeper as my escort.

"Good afternoon Miss Mason," says Oleander Cedara, snake-like eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Shall we talk?"

"Go cut your throat," I deadpan, hoping to hit a sensitive spot.

After all, that _is_ how he died.

Oleander doesn't say anything, instead grabbing the chain between my handcuffs and pulling me along. My mind wander back to the first year I mentored. When he was my father's tribute and Oleander's ex-girlfriend Maple, my best friend since birth, was my own tribute. District 7 didn't win that year, and it hasn't since. Which is why I was so confused, so angry to see him at my private training session with the Gamemakers, alive and well.

I don't know how he survived. And I don't know why he survived, instead of Maple or perhaps another tribute who didn't deserve to die. All I know is that the jerkwad in question is here, despite no one asking for him to be.

Oleander continues to drag me through hallway after hallway, and I soon realize that we're going the wrong way. While part of me wants to point this out, another far more mischievous part of me realizes that if he doesn't take me to the correct location there's a chance he'll get in trouble. So I keep my mouth shut for once. Besides, anything else would mean granting him the satisfaction of talking to me, which would be a fate worse than anything imaginable.

We stop, and he looks around before asking, "Did you read my note?"

I scoff and attempt to cross my arms, in spite of the handcuffs. "What did you expect me to do Pinnochio? Blindly trust everything you say like Maple did? How stupid do you think I am?"

Oleander growls like a dog (no, not making this up) and pins me to the wall. "All I've ever done was for the greater good!"

The urge to spit in his face is overwhelming. "Oh, right! The greater good! Almost forgot about that, with you causing Maple's parents to get shot and all!"

"Johanna," he snarls.

"And then what did you do? Oh, right! You started working with the man who assaulted her aunt and forced custody of their daughter after three years of being a deadbeat! Almost forgot about that one," I say, glaring at him. "I'm pretty sure there isn't a word in the English language capable of expressing what a piece of trash you are, but if I had to choose one I probably wouldn't be allowed to say it on live TV."

"If you would just let me explain-" he yells.

"But here's the thing- you never do! You always say this crap about how you're doing things to help people, and then when I ask you to explain you leave one of those stupid notes that say the exact thing you just told me! I don't know what the actual heck is going on in your brain, but it's pretty obvious that your plans always have plenty of room up there!"

Oleander looks behind him before turning back to me.

"That's because there are eyes everywhere."

Tell me something I don't know, moron.

I glare at him, feeling no sympathy. "Take me back to my quarters. I refuse to talk to you ever again."

… **..**

 **Not so sure about the ending, but I wanted to go ahead and get this posted so I suppose it'll have to do for now.**

 **I have no way of knowing the religious beliefs of anyone who happens to stumble upon this story, but if any of you do happen to be religious my little sister could use some prayers. She's on an out-of-country mission trip, and today especially fate seems to be going against her and the group as a whole. Her group's flights have been delayed I don't know how many times by this point, it's thrown their schedule completely out of whack, and today she had nearly 200 dollars stolen from her wallet. It's an incredibly frustrating situation, and it's hard to have faith that after all the effort they've put into this trip something good will come out of it.**

 **Quote of the day!**

" _*after struggling to avoid the effects of the lasso of truth* I'm a SPY! I'm a British SPY!"_ -Wonder Woman, Steve Trevor

 **May the odds be ever in your favor,**

 **Spectrobes Princess**


	3. Isolation

8/4/17

 _Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games_

 **Hi again! Thanks for reading! For once I'm actually getting a chapter posted when I said I would, so let's hope this starts a trend. I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

….

The Manipulation Games 3: Rebellion

Chapter Three: Isolation

…..

It's been a few days since I spoke to Oleander. He hasn't tried to contact me since then, which comes as a relief to me. I don't expect it to last, seeing as he's never been one to listen to others. Any day now when the Peacekeepers make their constant visits to borrow Peeta I expect him to make an appearance as well.

Peeta hasn't been himself lately. He's been quiet and distant, and prefers to shut himself in his room like Enobaria does. Gone are the days of him and Annie building card houses, laughing as they fell over and feeling happy in spite of our current circumstances. Now Annie and I have resorted to watching the TV all day, pre-set to only pick up a singular channel filled of propaganda detailing how wonderful the Hunger Games are.

Peeta appears on a few of these propos. I can only assume that's what they take him away for, but it doesn't explain the bags under his eyes or the way his hands tremble at any given moment. I hadn't noticed how bad it was until I myself was taken away with him this morning. Up close, it's so much worse. The nervous tremor in his hand never seems to stop, he's lost weight to the extent that he looks malnourished, and the smile that used to light up his face has vanished completely. He looked so pitiful that it was hard to focus on the resentment I held for the ridiculous costume my stylist forced me into.

Honestly, I miss the tree costumes at this point.

As of right now, I find myself sitting in the same place I was a few days ago, sans Enobaria and Annie. Unfortunately, I'm still wearing the ridiculous white lump of fabric my stylist insists is clothing. Filming for Peeta's newest Propo has yet to begin, but I'm sure it will start at any moment. In the meantime, I scan the area for any signs of Oleander. I don't see him, but I do see someone notably worse.

Nero Dark: current Head Peacekeeper of the Capitol, father of Maple's cousin, and overall horrible excuse for a human being. He's an absolute skunk but at the very least that long, crooked nose of his makes him easy to spot in a crowd.

Music begin to play as an announcer introduces Caesar Flickerman and Peeta. They greet each other with simple questions of "how are you today?" that no one is really supposed to answer truthfully. After a few more pointless questions that society has pre-selected answers for, they move on to more interesting, political questions.

"Now Peeta," Caesar says, tone becoming serious. "I've been hearing rumors that Katniss has been shooting propaganda for the radicals in District 13. Would you happen to have any thoughts on this?"

My muscles tense up. To side with the rebels would be a death sentence, but to betray them? It was hard enough for me earlier today to stand silently by the President's side. I can hardly imagine what this must be like. In a selfish way, I'm glad it isn't me.

"They're using her, obviously," Peeta says, glancing at Nero. "To whip up the rebels. I doubt she even really know what's going on in the war; what's at stake."

"Is there anything you'd like to tell her?" Caesar asks, but his warm tone and sympathetic facial expression can't fool me. This is no mere message from a distraught teenage boy to the girl he loves. This is an opportunity.

"There is," Peeta says, falling for the bait. "Don't be a fool Katniss. Think for yourself. They've turned you into a weapon that could be instrumental in the destruction of humanity."

This kid… I know that from the bottom of his heart he doesn't want there to be a war. But what I don't think he understands is that there's no other way. These speeches aren't encouraging the Capitol to end the Games. Rather, they're encouraging the citizens of Panem to spend another 75 years suffering, staying quiet about the injustices they've faced.

"If you've got any real influence, use it to put the brakes on this thing. Use it to stop the war before it's too late. Ask yourself, do you really trust the people you're working with? Do you really know what's going on? And if you don't… find out."

Caesar is about to respond when the camera woman cuts him off.

"That's a wrap," she says, irritated.

"But we barely even-" Caesar begins to protest.

"I'm under strict orders from President Snow and Head Peacekeeper Dark to get these two back to their quarters immediately," the camera woman says.

Before I can fully register what's happening, I'm dragged away by Peacekeepers. We take a much more direct route this time, avoiding all the "short"cuts Oleander took me through last time. When we make it back, Nero takes me from the other Peacekeepers. Usually, I would've fought back, but I'm close enough to getting back to Annie that struggling wouldn't do her any favors.

He pulls me inside, and I'm a little confused when I don't see Annie sitting in her normal place on the couch. I'm about to go closer to investigate when Nero forces me away and shoves me into my room. He slams the door shut, and I can only feel relieved that there's finally a barrier between us.

"Hey genius, I'm allowed out of here," I scoff, leaning up against the door and crossing my arms.

I hear Nero's demonic laugh from the other side of the door. "Snow and I have come to an agreement. After all, it's not good for the four of you to have a chance to discuss your escape."

"Aww, good for you," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Oh believe me, I'm going to do some things I've been looking forward to for a very long time."

"Like what, toilet train yourself?" I ask, hopefully hiding the fear in my voice.

There's a silence on the other side of the door, and for a while I even believe I'm alone.

"Your life is about to get so much harder."

… **.**

 **I should be getting a new computer in a few days, which means hopefully I'll have a working word processor again and won't have to worry about Google Docs messing with my formatting. I'm a little sad since I'm a highly nostalgic individual and I've had this computer for nearly a third of my life (which isn't saying much come to think of it), but from my understanding my old computer is probably going to either my little brother or my aunt so it's not like it's going anywhere. Plus it'll be nice to have a laptop that doesn't have to constantly be plugged in because I messed up the battery (oops).**

 **Quote of the day!**

" _Knees, knees, the musical fruit, the more you eat the more you get arrested because that's cannibalism and desecration of human corpses…"_ -a wonderful and pleasant song my friend wrote that we all sing regularly now

 **May the odds be ever in your favor,**

 **Spectrobes Princess**


	4. Ava

9/2/17

 _Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games_

 **Hi again! Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

….….…...

The Manipulation Games 3: Rebellion

Chapter Four: Ava

…..…

Solitary confinement isn't so bad. Or at least, it isn't at first. I'm used to spending most of my days in District 7 alone as it is, and for the first few days I was perfectly content for things to be at least somewhat normal like this. However, after a while my circumstances revealed to me the reason why I was able to be so independent at home. You see, when I was at home I may have lived alone, but there were always people around me. Whenever I began to feel lonely (which wasn't often, though it did happen), all I had to do was walk down the sidewalk to my father's house, or perhaps call Finnick if he wasn't home. But Blight isn't even alive anymore, and I can't talk to Finnick either. It's funny how I used to want to be alone all the time. Now that I don't have a choice, I regret it.

It's on my fourth day of this fresh level of torture when a note is slipped under my door in the middle of the night. At first, I assume that Annie was able to convince a Peacekeeper to sneak a note to me, but when I see the drawing of an Oleander shrub on the front of the envelope my hope immediately shatters. I pick up the envelope and tear it up without so much as looking at the letter's contents. Wadding up the shreds into a ball, I shove it into the trash bin.

"Coward," I huff.

That's when I hear it. Giggling. I narrow my eyes and start looking around the room, when I hear a loud crash coming from the bathroom. All sense leaves my mind as I run into the bathroom, fully ready to deal with whoever was spying on me. I slam the door open and turn on the light, only to find myself unprepared for the sight in front of me. A terrified pre-teen girl who I recognize immediately is laying in the shower, with her flaxen hair sticking up in every direction. The curtain has somehow been knocked down, and a glance at the broken airvent on the ceiling tells me exactly how she got here.

"Ava, what the-"

She frantically sits up and interrupts me mid-sentence. "Johanna, I can explain!"

I shush her and close the door. I pull the shower curtain back onto the rod and help her stand up. "You're not hurt, are you?" I whisper, looking her over. With the fall she had, it's a miracle she can stand at all.

Ava shakes her head, wiping tears from her cheeks.

"Good. Now why don't you tell me what the actual heck you were trying to do?" I whisper-snap, which is really quite an impressive combination of voice tone.

"I- I was just trying to-"

I notice her trembling and try to sound more sympathetic, in hopes of making it easier for her to trust me. Given that she's Nero's daughter, it's easy to guess what kind of life she has at home. If we both survive to the end of the rebellion, I seriously need to get her away from him.

"Hey, it's okay. You can talk to me."

Ava nods her head and takes a deep breath. "I was trying to spy on the guards. I just, you know, got lost in there."

I frown, running my fingers through my hair. "And what were you planning on doing?"

"I don't know. It's just… you don't know how much the rebellion means to us."

My confusion must show, so she elaborates.

"Most of the kids at school feel the way I do. We've grown up differently than the adults did. When they were kids, the victors didn't speak as freely as they do now," Ava begins.

"You knew the truth before you could lose your hearts," I say, starting to understand.

Ava nods, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub. "I just wanted to help. I thought that maybe if I could get some information to the rebels, I could make a difference. But… I don't know what I'm doing."

I glance at the open airvent. "Clearly. Is there not a better way to do this?"

Ava sighs. "President Snow just passed a law prohibiting symbols of the rebellion, so we're all going to wear gold for Team Mockingjay at school tomorrow. His granddaughter even organized it. But it's not enough! It's just wearing a costume, not making a difference."

I think back to my own teenage years. When I wanted to do everything I could to promote the rebellion, and it got my family killed. And now, looking at little Ava, who has so much of her life left to live with people who love her, and I realize that I can't possible let her make the same sacrifices I did.

"You know what Aves?" I say, taking a seat next to her. She lays her head on my shoulder, and I try to brush it off. "I think you _are_ making a difference."

Ava looks up at me, confused. "I am?"

I give up on trying to move her. "You don't have to do something stupid to help. I learned that the hard way, and I don't want you to make the same mistake I did. Capisce?"

Ava nods her head. "So I've gotta work _smarter_ , not harder?"

"Exactly," I say with a smile. At least she's getting it better than I did…

Ava smiles, brighter than I ever could, and wraps her arms around me. "Thanks Johanna. I understand now."

I sigh, removing her arms from around me. "Okay, enough hugging. You need to go home now, okay?"

She's hesitant, but nods her head anyways. "Alright. I'll go."

I help her back into the vent, and I can't help but wonder if she's really going to listen.

….

 **So I'm hoping to update again by the 16th but I can't make any promises. Until then, quote of the day!**

" _I'm Joey. I'm disgusting and I take my underwear off in other people's homes."_ -Joey Tribbiani, Friends

 **(Yeah, kind of obvious what I'm watching right now…)**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor,**

 **Spectrobes Princess**


	5. Dead By Morning

10/7/17

...….…..…

The Manipulation Games 3: Rebellion

Chapter Five: Dead By Morning

….

And so the days go by. I'm bored, and lonely, but there are worse things to suffer. It hasn't been quite as bad as I thought it would be, but knowing Snow he'll up the ante as time goes on. I'm not counting on this terrifying but peaceful state of existence lasting much longer, so I've begun to plan my escape. After all, Ava had to get in somehow. Surely the vents lead out somewhere.

Last night, I took my first tour of the vents. I found Annie's room, and Enobaria's as well, but Peeta's was nowhere to be seen. I even managed to make it to District 5's floor before deciding to turn back. Perhaps navigation of the vents should have been something I learned prior to the rebellion, but I never would have imagined the Training Center to be our place of imprisonment. Even when the thought crossed my mind, I mistakenly believed that Cashmere or Shey, who were much more adept at using the air-vents to travel, would still be alive to help me out, but both of the younger victors have been since been slaughtered by Snow's cruel Games.

(Or perhaps it was Enobaria and I who were responsible. Perhaps blaming Snow for our own actions in the arena is irresponsible, even when we had no choice. Perhaps Enobaria should have thought about Plutarch's misdirection more critically, and I should have clutched my ax a bit tighter as I raced towards Gloss's limp body.

Perhaps the issue isn't so black and white after all.)

My goal is to make my escape by the end of the week. Every day counts, certainly, but getting out as soon as possible won't do us any good if I don't plan ahead. Being hasty in my planning has caused senseless death in the past, and I refuse to let it define my future. The biggest issue is if I should take the others with me. I can leave sooner if I go solo, and I'll have a better chance of making it to District 13 as well. But what will happen to the others if I leave them behind?

Quite frankly, I'm upset. If it weren't for Everdeen and her "defender of the helpless" act, I wouldn't be this conflicted. I would've been more likely to act upon instinct rather than consider all the outcomes, as well as their effect on others. And while I agree that this is probably the best way, it's certainly not the easiest.

Someone knocks at my door for the first time since the night of Ava's visit. Not that anyone has needed to- I've been able to summon (albeit rationed) food to my room via the same machine that has always been in our rooms, and Snow knows better than to put me in too many of his stupid propaganda shots. So I can't imagine any reason why anyone would need me now. Especially since they've made it clear that solitary confinement is how they plan to punish me for having a conscience.

Nero opens the door, looking constipated as usual. How Ava managed to inherit so few of his crap genes is a mystery to me. Any traits she has in common with him, such as her light blue eyes and the shape of her nose, look different on her than they do on him. If the father and daughter were to stand next to each other, a stranger most likely wouldn't be ale to guess that they're related. Even I resemble my own father more, and to this day my relation to him probably remains a secret to most of Panem.

"Nero," I say, voice raspy from lack of use. "Why the heck are you here?"

"It is the request of President Snow that all captives be present for tonight's announcement. Against my better judgment."

I make sure he notices the way I roll my eyes. If Snow wants me to see this, it means he needs me to be alive for it. If Nero can't kill me, I may as well fill him with the desire to.

He cuffs me and drags me to the elevator. It seems odd seeing the place again after only being allowed in my (or rather Finnick's) room. I don't get to look for long though, as I'm soon pushed into the elevator. Nero presses the button with no consideration as to whether or not I would like to push it (the nerve!) and the horrible journey continues.

"There were reports of Peacekeepers hearing voices coming from your room. Would you happen to know what the source may be?"

I feel myself begin to panic, but I force myself to stay calm. Mediocre acting skills, don't fail me now!

"Are you talking about the time when the TV you losers supposedly cut power to randomly decided to turn itself on? Because otherwise it was probably me talking to my imaginary friend, Uranin."

"Uranin," Nero says, narrowing his eyes.

"Yeah," I scoff. "It's a really common name in District 7. I got it from my 8th grade teacher, Mr. Compoop. He was great. I could've sworn you were related or something."

Nero scowls, probably not catching on. "Aren't you a little old to be playing games?"

Oh. He set himself up nicely this time.

"Not according to the Quarter Quell."

If looks could kill.

Nero doesn't even try to talk to me for the rest of the way there. Maybe a part of him knows how messed up things are, but even if that is the case its not likely that he'll do anything about it. And why should he? His life is the envy of Peacekeepers everywhere. He lives a life of luxury as one of Snow's head advisers. He would never give that up, nor would he consider it.

When we finally reach our destination, Snow's announcement is already "well" underway. Rather than being set where normal interviews are conducted, the setting of today's big failure is a new location entirely. I have a hard time believing that it was connected to the tribute center at all. The room is solid white, and is set up similar to how the stage was for the propaganda I filmed: a large white throne for Snow to sit on, placed on a white tile floor with roman style pillars surrounding him on either side and a podium covering his lower half. Vases of roses sit on top of the pillars, as well as at the base. A camera crew stands in front of him, filming the (apparently live) broadcast, with the footage being shown on a TV screen behind the camera crew. Annie and Enobaria stand under the TV, surrounded by Peacekeepers yet thankfully looking unharmed. Thought I wish I could say the same for Peeta.

He sits in a chair next to Snow, hand trembling and eyes bloodshot. His leg taps against the bottom of his chair to a beat with no particular pattern. Sweat glistens on his forehead, yet what scares me most is the look in his eyes. Anger, pure and uncontrolled, blazes through them, yet at the same time he seems distant. As though whatever has angered him is far, far, away and he would do anything to reach it. I find myself terrified of the boy I know to be completely harmless.

I take a deep breath and let Nero guide me over to the others, and let Annie hold my trembling hand in her own. Enobaria stands to the side on her own, scowling in Snow's direction. Silently, the three of us fearfully watch the Snow-Makes-Up-Bullcrap show with a new interest.

"It's the rebels," Peeta stutters, eyes shifting around the room. "They're the ones who are breaking your dams and burning your granaries. If you want someone to blame, then blame them, not the Capitol! Right now, we need to work together to save our civilization, before we destroy each other from the inside out!"

Suddenly, a buzz of static fills the air, and the eyes of both Peeta and Snow snap to the screen. I try to turn to look at what could be so interesting, but by the time I can turn around things have returned to normal.

Shaken, Peeta continues. "In addition to this, there… there was a bomb set at a water purification plant in District-"

Peeta is interrupted by more static. And this time, I hear a voice. One I was beginning to think I would never hear again.

"And the thing about little Rue is that this isn't the first time a child so young has sacrificed so much. Because of the Games, countless children like Rue are taken from us too soon, their lives forever stolen by Snow and his selfish idea of revenge."

I turn around and look at the screen, unable to speak.

"Finnick?" Annie whispers tearfully.

The image of Finnick is ripped from the screen, but the Capitol doesn't retain control of the broadcast for long. Soon, footage begins switching back and forth, from clips of the rebels to our panicked studio struggling to regain control. And believe me when I say Snow is ticked off. His face turns red as a tomato, and if you look closely enough you can almost see steam leaking from his ears. Of course, that would expose him as the heartless robot he is, so of course it's very easy to conceal. He gestures for the camera crew as the footage finally stops flashing back to rebel propaganda.

"Clearly, the rebels are now attempting to disrupt the dissemination of information they find incriminating. However, we are Panem! Truth and justice shall reign!"

A cameraman presses a button, and the sound of artificial clapping plays from a speaker on the side of the room. A chill passes over us, and I shudder.

"The broadcast shall resume as soon as security is reinstated. Peeta? Given tonight's demonstration, do you have any parting thoughts for Katniss Everdeen?"

Annie leans closer to me, holding a death grip on my arm. A Peacekeeper aims his gun at us, and I gulp and close my eyes.

"Katniss," Peeta whispers, as though her name alone brings him the strength to say his parting words. "How do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts. And you, in Thirteen..."

I hear him, gasping for air, and I open my eyes. He's obviously in pain, but manages to choke out one final statement.

"Dead by morning!"

Chaos, more violent and loud, fills the room as Snow orders to cut the broadcast. Peacekeepers scuffle around the room, and Annie begins to hyperventilate. Peeta tries to continue speaking, but he is knocked to the ground by a Peacekeeper. Blood splatters on the tile as Annie begins to scream. Terrified, I try to pull her closer yet, but she is ripped away from me by a Peacekeeper who starts dragging her away.

"Annie!" I screech as Nero grabs me by the shoulders. He pulls on my arms, and I feel something snap as pain surges through my muscles.

He ties something around me, effectively holding my arms in place, and drags me in the direction they took Annie. I whip my head around and clamp my jaw around his shoulder, sinking my teeth into his skin. His blood seeps into my mouth as I flail my legs around, kicking him when possible. Nero pulls me off of him and throws my limp body against a wall, and begins kicking me in the chest.

I grit my teeth and hold in a scream. I try to focus on breathing as he tosses me over his shoulder and carries me away. My legs feel numb, perhaps even broken, but I can't remember Nero doing anything to them. I take a deep breath and blink back tears. Everything hurts, but I stay stony faced.

 _Never let him see you cry, never let him see you cry, never let him see you cry…._

I suck in my breath as the sound of screams gets louder, and Nero tosses me against yet another wall. This time, he doesn't pick me back up. Instead, I hear his footsteps exit the room. I breath in, and out, and open my eyes. I'm in a cell, large and plain and white, with no windows or beds, and a drain in the middle of the room that I assume to be _exactly_ what I'm worried it is. From the adjoining cell, I can faintly hear Enobaria panicking as she desperately tries to wake Peeta up.

I wiggle my arms out of my broken restraints, and slowly lift myself off the floor. I sit up for a moment, breathing deeply, before I hear faint whimpering. I turn around, and I instantly feel relief in spite of my current situation. Curled up in the corner, in the fetal position with her hands covering her ears, is Annie.

I crawl over to her, shaking her shoulder lightly. "Are you okay Scatterbrain?"

The question comes out as more of a wheeze than normal human speech, but it doesn't matter. She wouldn't have heard me. Not while she's out like this, anyways. I back away to give her space, but I keep an eye on her to make sure she's breathing. If something happened to her, who knows what Finnick would do?

The fact that we're still alive shocks me to my core.

"Are you? Are you?" Annie whispers, what appears to be a song. "Coming to the tree. They strung up a man, they say he murdered three."

"Annie?" I ask.

I don't get an answer, and for a moment there's complete silence. I can't help but wonder, is there any hope of escape now? And if there isn't, what will happen to us now? They can't possibly know where we are, and even if they did wouldn't it be too much of a risk to make? If the Mockingjay were here, maybe they'd come for us, but since she's safe there's no point, is there?

I hear Peeta's voice.

" _Strange things did happen here no stranger would it be, if we met, at midnight, in the hanging tree."_

…

 _Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games_

 **Hi again! Sorry I took so long! Life's been busy, and I had writers block. But I think I'm back now. Besides, NaNoWriMo is coming up, so I might get a lot written during then. Key word being might, since I didn't even come close to wining last year, but I'm still going to try.**

 **Thank you Caracal the SandWing for adding this story to your favorites, as well as to anyone else who followed, favorited, or reviewed.**

 **Quote of the day!**

" _If you're going to call me names, I would prefer Ross: The Divorce Force. It's just cooler."_ -Ross, Friends

 **May the odds be ever in your favor,**

 **Spectrobes Princess**


	6. Snap

11/7/17

….

The Manipulation Games 3: Rebellion

Chapter Six: Snap

…..…...…..…..…...…...…...…..…...…..….

Oddly, my new quarters are more comforting than my previous residence. While any Capitolite would have a mcfreaking heart attack at the sight of the place, I feel like I have a stronger grip on whatever is left of my sanity here. And while I'd never admit it, I'm grateful to have Annie's company. It makes it a heck of a lot easier to keep an eye on her too. Sure, the circumstances are terrifying, but there's not much they can do to us while they still need us for propaganda.

At least, I hope that's where they took Peeta this morning.

I hear the sound of footsteps echoing from down the hall. It can't be Peeta, since it only sounds like one person, and they would never trust him to wander around alone. No, it would be all too easy for him to escape. He's been gone for so long though, I can't help but wonder what's taking so long. And if it's not Peeta, that probably means it's my turn to be turned into the Capitol's circus dog, jumping through hoops to please the crowd.

Shoot.

Me.

Now.

When our mysterious stranger decides to show his face, I mentally repeat my previous statement and pray for the sweet release of death. A tall man with ginger hair and eyes the shade of brown often stereotypically associated with District 7 unlocks the door and smirks at the state I've found myself in.

"Miss Mason, so we meet again."

I narrow my eyes, because the security camera on the ceiling isn't aesthetically pleasing enough to roll them. "Oleander."

It's better than Nero, it really is. But I'd rather have neither of them than either of them, and typically when one rears their ugly head they both do.

"I think you know the drill by now. Come here willingly and I won't have to cuff you."

I glance at Annie to make sure she's still asleep (no use freaking her out), and remain seated. He looks at me, confused, and I stare at him blankly. Since he refuses to stay dead, I may as well make his life as difficult as I can.

"Johanna," he warns. It feels a little childish, like a parent getting upset at their child for refusing to leave for school, but I still stay seated. Eventually, he has to actually go into the cell and drag me out, at which point I stand up immediately as he gets to me. He stares at me, before cuffing me and dragging me out of the cell.

"Did you at least read my letter?" he grumbles.

I roll my eyes. "You've given me a lot of letters. If you could specify it's contents, that would be fantastic. Wait- I know which one you're talking about. The one where you tell me that you wish you could tell me the details, but everything you do is for my dead best friend who wanted nothing to do with your slimy, pathetic personality? Oh wait, they all say that!"

"Because it's the truth!" he snaps. "You know why I keep saying these things? Do you? Because I don't think you've believed me the last eight-thousand times I've sent it!"

"Well maybe I'd believe you if you actually gave me the slightest indication as to what your problem is! Because right now what I believe is that you have a stick shoved up an unpleasant place that won't go away unless you refuse to leave me alone!"

"You know what? You're the prisoner, not me! You've made your choice to aid the rebellion, while I've made the right choice and stayed loyal to the Capitol. Stop acting like you're an innocent flower instead of a war criminal."

I can't help it. I laugh.

"You know what the irony here is? You're not innocent either. The blood of Maple's family is entirely on your hands, yet you claim that you've always had her best interests at heart!"

"Because I do! If I didn't do what I had to do, there wouldn't be a chance to bring her back!"

Suddenly, all the color drains from his face. Clearly, he said something he wasn't supposed to. But I don't care about his fate- only the weight of the words that have doomed him.

"There's a way to bring her back?" I whisper.

Oleander looks panicked, defensive even. But then I realize something that only someone who truly loved her could ever conclude. And that's not Oleander. He was only ever infatuated and in love with the idea of her. He never truly knew her, not like I did.

He wasn't her sister.

"How could you?"

His terror turns to confusion. "W-what?"

"Maple would never agree to any of this. Nero hurt her family- you hurt her family! If she were here and she knew what you were doing, she would refuse to let him help her."

Oleander smirks, stopping outside a door. "Oh Johanna. If only you knew the depths of what's really going on."

"Shut up," I hiss as he opens the door.

We enter a room not unlike my cell- white walls, no windows, and a drain in the middle. There are, however, two differences. The first, less obvious, is the fact that this one appears to have a sprinkler system. I can only assume that this is because we have entered the room where they keep their special prisoners- you know, the ones that they'd rather not set on fire. However, I still need to address the elephant in the room. And in this case, the elephant is a chair.

The chair is large and black, and sits in the middle of the room. Attached to each of the arms of the chair is a singular handcuff (because Nero has a problem I guess), and the chair itself is bolted to the floor. I can't explain why, but the room fills me with dread. It becomes immediately clear that I can't go into the room and come out alive.

Thus, I begin to fight.

Kicking, biting, punching- the method doesn't matter. As long as I get away from here, nothing else matters. I don't care how irrational it may seem- my instincts have been the only thing keeping me alive thus far and they haven't failed me yet. I begin to wish that I hadn't acted so immaturely earlier, because a lack of cuffs would make it so much easier to fight. But fight I do, and I refuse to surrender.

However, it isn't surrendering if you're captured. Despite my best efforts, Oleander pins me to the chair and replaces his cuffs with the ones on the chair. Without another word to me, he leaves the room and slams the door shut.

I shudder and bite the inside of my cheek. I guess I may have bitten too hard though, because I draw blood. The metallic taste enters my mouth and makes me gag. Memories of the night Blight died play through my head like some sick horror movie, and more than anything I want him back. I want everyone back. But even if Nero can bring one of them back to me, I refuse to accept his terms. And I know the ones I love would do the same.

How does the saying go? Speak of the devil and he will appear? Well, who would walk into the room but Nero. He seems angrier than normal, as though someone personally insulted his mother. Not that I care, seeing as he personally killed my mother. Yet still, it's odd seeing him like this, since I previously thought there was no way he could get angrier.

"Johanna. I'm going to cut to the chase. For years now, you've been a constant thorn in my side. Clearly, you wish to be at the center of the rebellion. I'd even go as far as saying that you're jealous of Miss Everdeen. Tell me everything you know about the rebellion, and I'll not only let you go, but I will personally give you the opportunity to bring her down."

Wow. He is nuts.

"I'd rather die!" I growl.

Nero chuckles. "While your offer to let me kill you is generous, I have much worse things in mind."

He presses down on one of my cuffs, and I'm shocked by a jolt of electricity. It stings, but it's over within seconds. Piece of cake, I can take this!

"I'll stop if you talk."

"As if!" I scoff.

He presses down on the cuffs again, this time long enough for me to register what's happening. I begin to tremble violently, as if my whole body is cramping. I feel a brief trickle of moisture escape my eyes, and I hear a scream. Except it doesn't sound like my own voice. It's a voice that I know, but I can't figure out from where. Nero must hear it too, because the moment the scream is over he releases the cuffs. I immediately feel relief. There's a coolness in my muscles, and I feel my heartbeat drop back to a normal pace.

Nero frowns. "Hopefully, I've given you something to consider for tomorrow. In the meantime, I have some business to attend to in the family."

He leaves, and I begin to wonder how much of this I can take before I snap.

…

 _Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games_

 **Hi again! Sorry it took such an insane amount of time to update. It's NaNoWriMo this month though, so I'm going to try to write more. Hopefully this means we'll have more updates :)**

 **Thank you Random-Dreaming and BookArtist for adding this story to your favorites, and doraviolet and BookArtist for reviewing. I'm glad you guys like the story!**

 **Quote of the day!**

" _That was a lot of explosions for two people blending in." -K-2SO, Rouge One_

 **May the odds be ever in your favor,**

 **Spectrobes Princess**


	7. Drip

11/12/17

… **..**

 **The Manipulation Games 3: Rebellion**

 **Chapter Seven: Drip**

…

Eventually, another Peacekeeper came and brought me back to the cell I share with Annie. While it would've been more convenient for them to just leave me in Nero's torture cell, I wouldn't dream of suggesting it. I may be hasty, but I'm not stupid. At the very least they left Annie alone while I was gone, which comes as a relief.

Unfortunately, enough time has passed that they'll probably be coming back for me soon. I'm slightly concerned as to what else Nero has in store for me as well. The electricity wasn't pleasant, but from what he said it sounds like he has something much worse in mind. If that's the case, I would gladly take the shocks.

I try to bide my time, but there's nothing useful I can do. In my quarters in the Tribute Center, it seemed like I actually had a chance at escape. Here, there's no use in even planning. All I can do is talk to Annie or sit here and mope about the many, _many_ ways I've been done an injustice in the past few weeks.

I'm still angry at Oleander too. The nerve! He has no right to act like he ever had Maple's best interest at heart, but here he is lying his butt off. I feel stupid for believing him there for a second. Clearly whatever he's planning involves Nero, which means Maple would automatically disapprove of it. So why does he think she would be tickled pink if he of all people brought her back to life? And still, even if Maple can be brought back like he was, would she want to be? Even if there is a better chance of things taking a turn for the better than there was when she was alive, right now the world is a worse place than the one she left. Right now, my loved ones are as happy and safe as they'll get, even if that does mean they're dead. Why would Oleander want to drag her back into this? And why doesn't he just tell me how he came back in the first place?

Nero barges through the door yet again, snapping me out of my angry daydreams and into an angry reality. He's a lot less polite about my imprisonment than Oleander was, and instead of trying to reason with me first he immediately resorts to forcing me into the handcuffs. Annie starts flipping out, and immediately goes into panic mode. Even though it will probably make things worse for her I fight back, but none of my kicking and screaming makes a difference. In the end, I still end up being dragged out of the cell and down the hallway. And to add insult to injury, my least favorite person can't even bother to be here. No, Snow just had to send one of his lackeys to do this crap instead, like a coward.

(But to be fair, Snow is, in fact, a coward. This is one of the first lessons taught to us as children, and it is a very important one at that.)

I continue to struggle as Nero walks me down the hall, even though I know I can't escape. I refuse to be an easy prisoner. I'll accept my fate, sure, but that doesn't mean I can't be a jerk and inconvenience people anymore. If I go down, I'm going down with a fight and taking the Capitol with me!

Nero unlocks the door to the same cell as the one I was in previously, and pushes me in as I sink my teeth into the bicep of his upper arm. Oddly, I don't taste blood- almost as if he doesn't have any. Which makes sense, considering someone as wicked as him can't possibly be human. Humanity sucks and our civilization is a freaking messed up place and all, but it's not messed up enough for me to fully believe it created such monsters as Nero and President Snow.

I'm shoved into the chair and cuffed into place, and as I continue to flail back and forth in the chair in hopes of escape, I can't help but smirk as I notice Nero wincing in pain.

"Not so tough after all, are you?" I sneer.

Nero glares, slapping me across the face. "I'm in a lousy mood today Mason, so you better listen or else-"

"Or else what?" I ask. "You heard me in the arena Nero. It's not like I've got anything left to lose. You took care of that, remember?"

Nero laughs. "Oh, that's what you think."

He leans down and presses down on the handcuffs, letting the sparks of electricity sizzle through my veins. I feel my muscles tightening like they did last time, but I refuse to scream. Screaming would mean giving him that satisfaction. If he kills me, I want it to be as emotionally unsatisfying as I can possibly make things for him. It will be my last laugh.

Nero notices that I'm not reacting, so he lets go. I feel myself relax the moment the electricity stops, and while I'm still sore I feel immensely better. Nero seems puzzled, but something malicious glimmering in his eyes tells me that he's already decided how to deal with this.

"Hm. I didn't realize that pain's effect would have dulled so soon for you. Perhaps I need something more painful to convince you to talk."

"The only thing that will convince me to do anything is President Snow's rotting corpse," I snap.

Nero chuckles to himself, obnoxiously, and narrows his eyes at me.

"So be it."

With that, he leaves the room. A droplet of water drips down from the sprinkler, hitting the cuff. A brief tingle of electricity shocks me, and I shudder. I can only hope that Katniss makes herself useful and comes to rescue us soon.

… **.**

 _Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games_

 **Hi again! Sorry this was such a short chapter. I have an outline made that divides all the scenes up into chapters, and when I made the outline I didn't think this scene would be so short. But oh well, that's life I guess. At least I updated within a reasonable amount of time for once. Let's hope it lasts, because if it does there's a small chance that I'll get to post Finnick and Annie's wedding on Valentine's Day ;)**

 **(Of course, I'm sure no one will be complaining if I manage to get it posted even earlier than that…)**

 **Thank you coolerthancool99 for adding this story to your favorites and giurly99jb for following!**

 **Quote of the day!**

" _There was one time my brother transformed himself into a snake because he knows how much I like snakes, and so I picked the snake up to admire it, but then he turned back and went "AAHH! It's me"! And then he stabbed me."_ -Thor, Thor: Ragnarok

 **May the odds be ever in your favor,**

 **Spectrobes Princess**


	8. Fire

12/13/17

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games or anything else I may mention**

 **...…**

 **The Manipulation Games 3: Rebellion**

 **Chapter Eight: Fire**

… **.**

That night I lay curled up in my cell, listening to the sounds of Peeta's anguished screams. Annie lays pressed up against me, already fast asleep and spared from the painful sound. Enobaria whimpers for him to stop, and I pull Annie closer.

"Katniss! She- she's a mutt! Katniss- she did this! She- we need to stop her! Stop her! Katniss! Help… Katniss!"

I shudder, burying my nose in the thick brown curls on top of Annie's head. She sighs in her sleep, and for a moment I'm worried she'll wake up. But she continues to sleep, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in.

The screams have been going on for an hour or so now. At first, Peeta's screams were wordless, high pitched shrieks. Those were almost bearable. But as time has went on, more words have been added to the mix. Jumbled, mixed up syllables with no meaning turned to words, which began to form sentences. And the longer he's been speaking sentences, the more twisted and disturbing the sentences have become.

I'm willing to admit the unthinkable. I'm scared. Not just scared- terrified. And it's not just because of Peeta. The entire situation has me petrified in fear. I'm worried that I'll go to sleep and I won't wake up. And what scares me even more is that honestly it may be preferable to waking up and facing another day of this agony. And I know that my parents wouldn't be proud of me for thinking like that, especially not with the rebellion going on, but I can't help it. I've spent every moment of the past few weeks in fear of what will happen next, and the unknown is terrifying. All I want is to leave, and I want to do whatever it takes to escape. But I know that the only way out is to betray the rebels.

It's a hopeless situation, no matter what I do.

Footsteps echo throughout the hallway, and I pry myself from Annie. She stirs in her sleep, whimpering a bit, but remains asleep. I pray that it's a member of the rebellion, coming here to rescue us, but in my heart I already know that it's not the case. The footsteps grow louder as I stand to my feet. My legs wobble as my whole body trembles in fear, and I push the palm of my hand against a wall for support. Peeta's screams continue, louder than ever.

"Johanna?" Annie's voice whispers. Crap.

My hands clench into fists. "Go back to sleep, scatterbrain. This doesn't concern you."

"Johanna, what's going on?" she whimpers. Her breaths quicken, slowly turning into more of a wheeze. Not a good sign.

The door swings open, which is even less of a good sign, and Nero calmly steps in. He cocks his gun and smirks as Annie backs into the corner. He aims the gun at my heart and narrows his eyes.

"What happened to not killing me yet?" I say, scowling in spite of my fear.

Nero glares, lowering the gun and producing a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. He silently slaps them onto my wrists. I bite my lips and turn my head to Annie. Her hands are over her ears, and her eyes are clamped shut. It must be an easier day for her flashbacks.

I'm shocked that they haven't messed with her yet. Probably because they figure she has nothing to tell them. She's not stupid though- she knows so much more about the rebellion than Finnick and Mags knew she did. The other victors of District 4 wanted to leave her out of it in case of a situation such as this, but when she was the only one in the room she was always eager to help. Sure, she was always careful as to what she learned during these strategic meetings, leaving the most sacred and important details to those of us with less fragile minds, but she still knows several key details, some of which even I'm out of the loop for. She's always been good at keeping up a facade of being less stable than she actually is, and right now it's working to her benefit. Why _would_ the rebels tell anything to poor, mad Anastasia Cresta, let alone allow her to make important strategic decisions? Honestly, I'm jealous.

Sometimes I wonder what things would've been like had I kept up my own facade. If I had somehow managed to make it through my Hunger Games without turning vicious and revealing my true self to the Capitol. While I do still have an act of the loud-mouthed, rebellious girl who always says what's on her mind, it's much closer to who I really am and more likely to get me in trouble. Perhaps if I kept up my act of the sweet little girl who was always so close to breaking down into tears, the Capitol wouldn't have expected me to be hiding anything either. I know it was always a shock for new victors to discover that most of the victors typically labeled as "Capitol loyalists" actually had such big roles in the rebellion (such as Cashmere and Gloss or Angus), but they were never surprised to discover that Blight and I were on the front lines. Perhaps if we had been quieter, we wouldn't have been targeted so much.

Or maybe that's just my fear talking, making me think things that I never would have considered otherwise. It wouldn't be the first time it has happened today.

Nero opens the door to the other cell and shoves me in with the butt of his gun. He forces me into the chair, and as he's strapping me in I spit in his face. He doesn't react.

Nero walks over to a table that has been added to the side of the cell. On the table, there's a box of matches and a pile of fire wood. Oddly, I didn't notice it before, which surprises me because it sticks out like a sore thumb. He picks up one of the matches and walks back over to me, swiping the match on the edge of the chair. A small flame flickers to life at the action, jumping around on the small wooden stick. Honestly, what's he going to do? Burn me to death with that little thing? Please, how pathetic. A two year old could do better than that.

"The rebels," he begins, watching the flame intently, "seem to have a preoccupation with fire. And I can see why. Fire is random. Destructive. Once fire touches something, it will never be the same again. But we from the Capitol know what all of the Districts and Rebels seem to have forgotten. Fire can not save anything. And nothing can be saved from fire. Once fire touches something, it doesn't just change it- it destroys it. Tell me, Johanna, are you really so blind, so… naive, that you've tricked yourself into thinking that the Girl On Fire can save you?"

"I don't need saving," I spit. Which, you know, is pretty obviously a lie, but I can't let him know how scared I am right now. That would mean letting him win, and at this point I'm more concerned with being petty than I am with self preservation.

Nero laughs. "Oh, is that so?"

I glare at him, daring him to make another childish threat.

Taking the match, he walks with it over to the firewood and (after a few unsuccessful tries) sets it on fire. He smirks, leaving the room as the flames begin to flicker to life. The fire spreads, slowly taking more control of the wood. It grows, becoming larger and larger by the second. Suddenly, the face of Katniss Everdeen appears in the flames. This isn't normal fire- that much is obvious. The Capitol must have engineered it, just like Everdeen's stylist engineered that fake fire for the Tribute Parade. It doesn't really have the effect they want it to, though. I'm more amused that they tried than anything.

And then, the real reason for the flames becomes painfully, obviously clear. And I wish the fake fire was all they had in store for me.

With the push of a button, the sprinkler system turns on.

It starts light at first, only dripping a bit, but soon it turns into a downpour. The drips of water cascade onto the cuffs, soaking and shocking me at the same time. My entire body trembles, begging for this to stop. I begin panicking, loosing my grip on reality. I must be. The fire's still here. The water didn't put it out. Why wouldn't the water put it out?

Katniss glowers at me smugly as Nero's voice fills the room. "You see Johanna, the fire will not help you. It only wishes to hurt you. The Capitol- we're the true friend of the districts. We wish to rule with an iron rod, yes, but only for your protection. You've seen the chaos that emerges when the districts are allowed even a slither of power. Imagine what would happen if you were in charge. And the rebels? Why, they only want to cause that chaos. We're the heroes here, Johanna. We just want to save everyone. The Games are for your own good, and the good of everyone. And all you have to do to help these poor, unfortunate, pitiful souls, is to tell us about the rebellion. Every. Last. Detail."

I scream as I lose the feeling in my limbs. My head begins to feel light, and I feel like I'm going to black out.

Nero begins to speak again. "Oh, but I didn't tell you the best part, did I? You see Johanna, if you tell us everything, we won't have a reason to keep you here, will we? Being the kind and generous souls we are here at the Capitol, we have decided that the moment you tell us everything, we'll set you free. So what do you say? Would you rather do the right thing, or suffer the consequences?"

"I… I..." I pant, struggling to form a coherent thought. "I'll never tell you anything!"

The electricity grows stronger as Nero's laughter fills the room.

… **..**

 **Hi again! Happy late Thanksgiving! I hope everyone had a good one! And if for some reason I don't update before Christmas, merry early Christmas!**

 **I don't know if any of you were reading my other Hunger Games fanfiction, Reading the Hunger Games, but unfortunately that one was recently taken down due to it violating the site rules. I misinterpreted the rule about posting stories like that (I thought it was only referring to posting parts of other people's fanfictions with comments added to it, not doing that with the source material), otherwise I wouldn't have even posted it to begin with. I'm going to write an epilogue for it to tie up loose ends though, so keep an eye out for that in the near future! I just thought I'd give anyone who read that story a heads up.**

 **Quote of the day!**

" _Time to play the annual Thanksgiving guessing game: Guess the mystery meat!"_ -My sister

 **May the odds be ever in your favor,**

 **Spectrobes Princess**


	9. No One Left

1/2/18

 _Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games_

…

 **The Manipulation Games 3: Rebellion**

 **Chapter Nine: No One Left**

…

Days pass. Maybe weeks. Maybe even months. It's hard tell how long when each moment drags on longer than the last. I've started losing my grip on my sanity, as though I even had some to begin with. Every day my torment continues to worsen, as do Peeta's screams. Oh, the screams! They fill the air and drown out my prayers and all that messed up crap. I don't want to admit it, but I'm _scared_.

I don't think we'll make it out of here alive.

Peeta screams, banging his head against the cell wall. I can't hear Enobaria crying anymore, the sound muffled by Peeta. Then again, maybe she's dead. Or a traitor. Who knows what the Captiol has done to her? Annie stays huddled up in her corner, trembling and thankfully untouched. She remains invisible to all, living up to her title as Panem's forgotten victor, but for how much longer? As for myself, I'm close to the point of breaking. Electrocution hasn't been Nero's only instrument of torture, merely his favorite. I've been stabbed and burned, even waterboarded. Everything hurts. I'm soaked in my own blood and my muscles are so numb I can barely move. I just want to go home.

In spite of Peeta's screams, there's still one noise I can hear. Out of all the others, it stands out the most. It's the sound of boots thumping against the tile flooring, in a familiar rhythm of footsteps. It's an evil sound- one that fills me with dread. I feel like throwing up the moment I hear it, and it sends my body into a shudder. My muscles protest this movement and I brace myself, knowing I will be forced to move yet again. I can't do this. I just can't. The door swings open and Nero storms in. I close my eyes and hope that somehow he isn't here for me. And I'm right- he isn't.

He's here for Annie.

My heart stops beating. My lungs refuse to breathe. Annie flips out, screeching and flailing around as he grabs her by the shoulders. I feel my entire body go cold as he runs his filthy hand through her chocolate brown curls. This isn't right- it shouldn't be happening. It wasn't supposed to happen!

"My what a pretty little thing you are," Nero taunts, twirling a lock around his finger. "Just like that poor other girl. Oh what was her name… Deidra, I believe?"

The name of Ava's mother sounds like poison in his mouth. My heart starts beating again, so fast it may leap from my chest.

"No, stop! Please, take me instead!"

Nero is almost as shocked as I am at the words that come from my mouth. But while I can only bring myself to remain frozen in place, Nero's lips curl up in a dreadful sneer as he begins to laugh. He throws Annie onto the floor, and a loud snap echoes off the walls as she hits the ground. She stops moving.

"Well, well, well… it looks as though the great Johanna Mason has finally broken."

My eyes stay glued to Annie, desperately searching for any sign of life, and my heart skips a beat as Nero kicks her into the corner. She doesn't even whimper in protest. The weight of what just happened hits me like a ton of bricks. Nero's right- I've broken. The facade I've played for years has come crumbling to the ground in a single sentence. Memories of the Jabberjay attack in the arena play through my mind like a sick, twisted movie. I thought there wasn't anyone left I loved. I thought I was safe.

I was wrong.

The truth slaps me in the face harder than Nero could ever hope to. There are still people I love. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shut the world out. I pushed people away for years, but they still weaseled their way into my heart. My mind races through the names of those I tried to protect, and with each name I only feel weaker. I love them. I thought I didn't, but I love them.

My eyes well up with tears as Nero drags me away, but none of it registers. What will happen now? Will Nero stop at Annie? Or will he track down every last person he so much as suspects to use as a bargaining chip against me? I feel sick. Once again, my selfish feelings have put people in danger. But as I walk mindlessly through the halls, I find that it isn't the people who are still alive that I feel the most guilty about. It's the ones that have already died, whether because of me or not.

Because some of them died without knowing how much I actually cared.

I force myself not to actually cry as Nero straps me to the chair. He's gleaming with happiness, as though he just made it to his 19th birthday without ever being Reaped. He taps my wrists, and I'm quite literally shocked out of my thoughts. Nero chuckles, leaning in until our faces are inches apart.

"This is your last chance, Mason. Tell us what you know, or else you may not be the only one to suffer the consequences."

It's not like before. I can't answer him immediately. The stakes are too high. I don't want anyone else to die because of something I did. But at the same time, I know that if Annie and I are saved it could cost the rebellion everything we've worked for. It shouldn't be my choice to make for Annie, but in my heart I know what her choice would be. So once again, I look Nero in the eyes and prepare to meet my fate.

"You should know by now that I will never bow. You could rip me apart limb by limb. You could kill everyone I've ever cared about. You could even make me go back in the arena. But no matter what you do, I will never let you win. If I have to die for the rebellion, so be it."

Nero smirks. "Are you sure? As I'm sure you know, it will hurt much worse this time."

I spit in his face.

Nero laughs sadistically. "Very well then. I always look forward to hearing your screams."

He walks out of the room, and all there's left to do is wait. I grip the arms of the chair and brace myself, but there's no way to fully prepare myself for what happens next. Instead of merely sprinkling, waves of water begin to gush from the ceiling. I panic, screaming before the first drop hits me. The electricity sizzling against my wrists is stronger this time, and with every second that passes I find myself drifting farther out of consciousness. I've nearly passed out when I hear a familiar, feminine scream. Annie? No, no, it's not Annie. It doesn't sound like Annie. I know it's not Enobaria. Why would it be Enobaria? But who else is here?

"Dad, no! Daddy, please stop. Someone help me! Please, help-"

That voice. I know that voice.

No. No, it can't be. It can't be…

"Ava!"

… **.**

 **Hi again! How's that for a cliffhanger?**

 **I have what may be just a few too many New Years Resolutions, but one of them is to write more. So… we'll see I guess. Also, I Want To Live by Skillet just started playing, so that's kind of tragic.**

 **Anyways, quote of the day!**

" _After that I asked your dad if he's going to need counseling. He said maybe a little."_ -a family friend

 **(You probably don't want context for that one… o.0)**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor,**

 **Spectrobes Princess**


	10. Rescue

1/15/18

 **...…...….…..…**

 **The Manipulation Games 3: Rebellion**

 **Chapter Ten: Rescue**

… **.**

This can't be happening. No, it can't. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Things were supposed to be better. Not good. Better. But it doesn't matter, does it? Because things aren't better. Things are worse than I could've imagined.

I haven't broken down yet. I haven't told anyone the things I know. But it's happening soon. Very soon. I don't know how much longer I can stand this. Maybe if I talk, we'll be safe. But I can't talk. I won't betray the rebellion like this. But I have to.

I don't know what's going on anymore. I think I'm back in my cell, but I don't know. My head is spinning. Nothing seems real anymore. I keep seeing things that aren't really there. I see water, gushing from the ceiling and spreading everywhere. I feel electricity on my skin. But what I can't see is Annie. I don't know where she went. She's gone. Sometimes I think I hear her, but the only thing I can know for certain is the sound of Peeta's screams- the one constant in this mess.

Whimpering like a coward, I curl up into the fetal position and wait for this all to be over. The sweet release of death has never looked so appealing. The screams pierce my skull, and I reach my hands up to cover my ears. I reach for my hair, but it's gone. I can't find it.

I sit up and look around, but I don't see it anywhere. Why would it be here? I don't know. Why is it gone? I don't know that either. My arms become too weak to hold myself up, and I collapse to the ground once again. Everything hurts.

The power blinks. Then the lights turn back on. Then the power blinks again. This goes on for a while. It's like my grip on sanity at the moment. First it's there, then it's not. Kind of amusing in a sick, twisted way. I'm sure the Crapitol would think it's amusing. People are probably up in some fancy control room, flicking a switch on and off.

I hate them.

Suddenly, I hear a crash. I squeeze my eyes shut and tremble as footsteps thunder throughout the room. I hear a voice, one that sounds familiar. Dalton? Yes, it's Dalton! But didn't he go away? Isn't he in District 13 now?

District 13.

"Johanna. Johanna! Do you hear me?"

I hear water cascading down on us. Thunder booms through the air, even though we're inside. I scream, grinding my teeth and refusing to look up.

"Johanna, we're here to help!"

"Save Annie!" I scream, gripping my knees tightly. "She… she's not here. She's not here!"

I feel someone pick me up, tossing me over his shoulder.

"No! No! Dalton, no! Save Annie! Save… Annie..."

Everything goes black.


	11. District 13

3/15/18

… **.**

 **The Manipulation Games 3: Rebellion**

 **Chapter Eleven: District 13**

… **..**

I wake up inside a shiny metal room, a hovercraft maybe, laying on the cold floor. I can't hear a thing, except for a loud roaring sound. The room feels like it's being shaken as the other people in the room run around frantically. I try to identify them, but my vision is blurry. They all look like fuzzy gray mounds of human flesh (or at least, I hope they're human). My mind feels foggy as well, and I don't even notice that I'm being lifted off the floor until I find myself sitting in a wheelchair. I try to feel something, _anything_ , but my emotions are absent. Someone (or something) takes my arm, and I feel a slight pinch.

I blink.

Suddenly, I'm not on the hovercraft anymore. Instead, I'm in what I assume to be a hospital. The walls are gray. Everything is gray. Except for the sheet that covers my body- that's white. The bed, while uncomfortable, is an improvement over the conditions I've been living in for the past who knows how long. My vision has cleared up, and emotion-wise I feel… peaceful? I look to the side and see a morphine drip. Of course. My eyes trail a little to the left, and I see Dalton sitting in a chair next to my bed. Despite how clearly drugged up I am, a bit of anger still manages to seep through.

"Why did you save me?" I snap, jostling him out of his sleep.

"You're awake," he says with a sigh of relief.

I glare at him, feeling all the artificial happiness ebbing away. "You weren't supposed to save me, but you did! You got me out of that heck-hole, but you left your own sister to rot? What the actual heck!"

"Now Johanna, just you wait! Annie's just fine. I saved her myself," he says. "Gale Hawthorne was the one who got you. If it were just me who went to the Capitol, no one could've gotten Peeta or Enobaria, or that little girl."

Little girl seems like an odd thing for him to call Annie, but I wave it off. I've never had a little sister. One could argue that Ava and Cashmere were close enough, maybe even Annie herself, but it still isn't the same. Perhaps growing up in different districts has made Dalton forget that Annie isn't the terrified 16 year old who won the Games anymore. I know it's been easy for me to forget that myself.

I bite my lip. "You're sure Annie's fine?"

Dalton nods. "Yeah, she's all right. Not a scratch on her. Her clothes were so caked in blood she had to change into a sheet until we got back, but otherwise she was fine."

"It was probably my blood," I say, trying to make my tone light. It was a joke, though there was seriousness in it. I reach up to smooth my hair, only for my hand to make contact with bare skin. I rub my head, certain that I've made a mistake, but surely enough it's just… gone.

Dalton sighs, noticing my confusion. "Yeah, we're not sure what happened there. Can't be worse than what happened to Peeta though."

"What _did_ they do to Peeta? Pee on his dog or something?" I ask. I'm not particularly upset about the hair itself. I'm just bothered, I guess. My hair was never something I cared about too much, but the fact that my tormentors were the ones who decided it was time for a haircut makes it hard for me to feel comfortable. It serves as a reminder that the Capitol is always in control- just as I'm sure they intended it to be.

Dalton frowns, and there's a look of concern in his eyes. Almost as though he doesn't want to say what happened.

"They hijacked him," he says.

I feel my heart sink.

"What does that mean?" I ask. Fear grips me in a tight embrace, and I find myself dreading whatever explanation Dalton has to offer.

"The Capitol… they messed with his brain somehow. Made what's right seem wrong and what's wrong seem right. He thinks Katniss is the enemy."

I swallow, and my dry throat screams out in agony. I try to imagine what he's going through, what it would feel like to have the Capitol inside your mind. To have your memories changed, and your thoughts dictated. But I can't. It's a horror unlike any other, worse than even I've faced. The Capitol may have gotten into my head, but at least my mind is my own.

"Sounds like Snow all right," I say bitterly. "Is there any way to fix it?"

Dalton shakes his head. "Not that I've heard. But don't go worrying your pretty little head off. I'm sure Beetee'll think of something. Just you wait."

I nod. My gaze wanders to the foot of my bed, resting there for a moment. How did things get this hopeless? I thought after I was rescued, things would be easy. I thought we'd all march up to the Captiol, capture Snow, and end the Games forever. But now that I'm here, I see things for how they truly are. No amount of change can be inflicted that easily, no matter how much I want it.

"Are you doing all right?" Dalton asks.

"Yeah," I sigh, unable to look him in the eyes. "Would they shoot me on sight if I got up? I need to find Finnick."

Dalton chuckles sadly. "Well, I don't think any of you are really supposed to be up and about yet, but I know Annie's probably seen half the District by this point. I'm sure you wouldn't get in too much trouble if you're feeling up to it. I can stay here and let Prim know where you went if she comes back."

Prim. Isn't that Everdeen's sister? She must be helping in the hospital. I mumble a thanks and unhook myself from the morphine, regretting it the moment I do. I become aware of just how much everything hurts, and it becomes clear that I should stay in bed and rest. But I'm a woman on a mission, so I push forward and leave the hospital room.

District 13, or at least the hospital in District 13, is pretty much how I expected it to look. In a contrast to the Capitol, nearly everything is gray. From the uniforms worn by nearly everyone to the walls and floors, gray surrounds me. It's a lot easier on the eyes than the plethora of rainbows and eye numbing whites of the Capitol, though I still long for the muted browns and greens of District 7. No one roams the halls, giving them an eerie feeling of abandonment. The silence in the air is louder than any of Peeta's screams.

Where is everyone?

The quiet beeping of a life support machine begins to peek through the silence as I walk further down the hallway. That seems to be a good sign. After all, where there's patients there's doctors, and while I don't want to ask for help finding Finnick it seems to be my only option. Besides, the worst they could do is make me go back to my room, and if they do that I could always ask them to find him for me. I follow the noise to a room at the foot of a dead-end hallway. The door stands cracked open, beckoning me to open it. And like a puppet of fate, I enter the room.

Inside, Ava lays comatose.

… **.**

 **Quote of the day:**

" _And then Caesar ran into our knives. Julius Caesar ran into our knives 23 times."_ -Tumblr (credit: marisatomay) (because I can't _not_ make an ides of March joke)

 **May the odds be ever in your favor,**

 **Spectrobes Princess**


	12. Therapy

4/14/18

… **.**

 **The Manipulation Games 3: Rebellion**

 **Chapter Twelve: Therapy**

 **...…..**

"So, how are you?"

Strangely, I don't know how to answer Finnick's question. For the past month, I've been imprisoned and tortured by my enemies. But I'm alive. Our country is at war, and anyone could become a casualty. But if we win, the lives of countless children will be spared. My best friend's baby cousin, the only link I have to her, is in a coma. But for the first time in forever, I don't feel so alone. My body is scarred, my hair is gone, and my mental health is nonexistent.

But I don't feel a thing.

No emotion, positive or negative, had truly registered with me since the doctors dragged me away from Ava's comatose body. The closest thing to a feeling I've experienced is a dull feeling of peacefulness, unlike anything I've felt in years. Finnick says it's because they upped my morphine dosage. I don't care what it is- as long as this feeling never stops.

My lips curl into a smile. "I'm okay, all things considered. How are you holding up, Fish-boy?"

Finnick chuckles, laying his head on my shoulder. "I'm better, now that I know Annie's okay. I don't know what I would've done if something happened to her. Or you."

If this were before the Quell, I would've snapped at Finnick to stop being an insufferable sap and get off my stupid hospital bed. But today I'm so glad to see him that I let him invade my personal space. Just this once.

"Well, if something happened to me the Capitol would throw such a big party the rebels could sneak right in and go unnoticed."

Finnick smiles. Genuinely, not like that fake smile he gives for the cameras. I forgot how nice it is when he's truly happy.

"Is that so? Well, maybe we should've left you behind after all. Your death would've been an asset," he teases.

I roll my eyes. "What if I leave _you_ behind?"

Finnick pretends to pout. "Aww, Jo. You hurt my feelings."

Playfully, I push him off my shoulder. He gives me a gentle shove back.

The door opens, and the face of my personal least favorite citizen of District 13 soon comes into my view. District 13's own personal head doctor. I've never bothered to learn his name, as I could care less, and while I highly doubt that he's qualified to be a therapist he has made it his personal mission to act as such. If I had to guess, I'd say he's a Capitol native, given his pompous attitude and shallow view of the world. How and why a Capitolite would want to go somewhere like this I can only assume. Bribery from one of his less over-the-top associates, perhaps. I grit my teeth and prepare for the bi-hourly speech he gives me about how my life could, in theory, be so much worse. I don't see it personally, but hey, whatever floats his boat.

"Mr. Odair, I'll have to ask you to leave. It's time for Miss Mason's session."

Finnick squeezes my shoulder and stands up. I consider whining until the doctor lets him stay, but the sad truth is that I just don't have the energy to put up a fight today. Clearly, there's something wrong with me.

"I'll go see how Annie's doing. I'll be back soon," he reassures me.

"See you then," I say with a smirk, full well knowing that he has no intention of leaving Annie's side anytime soon.

As Finnick leaves, the doctor shuts the door behind him. I shift in my bed, trying to take up as much space as possible to prevent the doctor from taking the place where Finnick once sat. Luckily, he has a bit more of a concept of personal space than my friend does, at least from a physical perspective, and sits down in a barely functioning swivel chair.

"How are you today, Miss Mason?"

Unlike when Finnick asked me this question, Dr. Ego is really only asking me this because it's socially expected. Not really because he's concerned about my well-being or anything. Which means that the only answer I can give is "Good". Not "I'm concerned about Ava's safety" or "I had a panic attack when I tried to shower this morning, so that's new". Just "Good".

"Good," I say, dryly as possible.

Dr. Ego is wearing his fake-st smile today, paired beautifully with the latest fall accessory known as false interest. This chic new look is perfect for the office or any family gathering, and it can be yours today for two easy payments of not giving a crap. Wow! What a _deal_.

"I just want you to know that this is a safe place, and anything you say here is 100% confidential," he says.

100% confidential between him and Coin, I bet. This is probably less of a therapy session and more of an attempt to see which victors are emotionally stable enough to toss onto the front lines of war without worrying about who will betray the rebels at the first given opportunity. I may be drugged up on opiates right now, but I'm not stupid.

"And I know you went through a lot of trauma during your time in the Capitol, but you're perfectly safe now. You don't have to keep your guard up anymore. You're nothing but safe."

One blank stare later, he keeps talking.

"I think your problem is that you bottle up your feelings. I think you would feel a lot better if you just say what's on your mind. Trying to filter your thoughts will only lead to more repressed feelings."

Yeah, here's the thing buddy. If I did that, I would've been locked up in a mental institution a long time ago. Given that we don't exactly have that many of those here in Panem, it would be quite the feat.

"Miss Mason? Any comments?"

Nothing but another blank, empty stare.

He sighs, probably coming to the conclusion that he's not going to get much farther than he did last time. Which is to say, nothing happened.

"Okay, I'll leave you alone. You need your rest. But give some thought to what I said."

With that, he finally leaves.

I scoff, laying down. Perfectly safe my butt. No one is safe in Panem. But maybe because of the war, we can at least make it a little safer.

On a note more hopeful than I've dared to think for a long time, I slowly begin to drift off to sleep.

…

 **Disclaimer: I 100% support therapy, even though Johanna does not.**

 **Hi again! I'm sorry it took so long to update. I'm not sure if I posted anything about having a new update schedule last time I posted, but in case I did I don't think I'll be going by it anymore. It clearly isn't working too well, and if anything it's just stressing me out. So we're back to the old system of me posting a chapter whenever I get it written. Hopefully I'll get my crap together soon and get back to updating regularly O.o**

 **(Thank you LostGirl1114 for the reviews! It means a lot to me that you like my fic! I'll try my hardest to update sooner next time ^-^)**

 **Quote of the day!**

 _*to the tune of the Little Einsteins theme song* "We're going on a trip in our favorite rocket ship, zooming through the sky, where the heck am I?"_ -my sister after we got lost on our way home from the ACT.

 **May the odds be ever in your favor,**

 **Spectrobes Princess**


	13. The Mockingjay Returns

**6/11/18**

 **...**

The Manipulation Games 3: Rebellion

Chapter Thirteen: The Mockingjay Returns

….

When I wake up the next morning, the curtain that divides my room in half is closed. On the other side, I can hear nurses and doctors shuffling around, barking orders at each other in a frenzied panic. Their silhouettes peek through the thin white curtain, dancing about like morbid shadow puppets. I rub my eyelids, blinking to adjust to the bright lights shining upon me.

A nurse falls into my half of the room, panting heavily. She turns to me, and her eyes widen like a deer caught in the headlights. Stumbling forward in what resembles a drunken state, she quickly begins to check my vitals.

"And how are you today, Miss Mason?" she gasps, taking my blood pressure.

I stifle a yawn. "What time is it?"

"Just a little past two in the morning. I hate to wake you up, but doctor's orders and all."

My sleepiness is replaced by annoyance. "I was already awake. What do you mean, doctor's orders?"

The nurse releases my upper arm from the tight grip of her machine, scowling at whatever the result is. "She says we're crowding her. The patient, I mean. Can't blame us, though. If something happens to the Mockingjay now, this rebellion is as good as over."

I glance at the curtain again. Katniss is really back there? What could've happened to her here in Thirteen that would require medical attention? Unless this is about the baby thing, but Peeta told me that was a lie. I feel like an idiot for being out of the loop, but it's not like I've had any visitors except for those lovesick kids from Four.

"Did she fall down the stairs or something? Because I'd pay her to do it again."

The nurse shakes her head. "She was shot on a mission to District 2. Don't worry though, our doctors are doing everything they can. She'll be up and fighting again before we know it!"

Everything they can. The doctors are doing everything in their power to patch up a stupid gunshot wound, when there's a little girl in a coma just a few doors down who has been completely abandoned. Rage courses through my veins, and my body begins to heat up to a feverish degree. I bite my cheek and force myself to breathe, balling up my fists.

How am I this angry? I actually feel a lot more clear-headed today than normal. Weren't the drugs dulling my emotions? I glance over at my arm, noticing the lack of an IV.

"What happened to my drugs?"

The nurse looks up from her clipboard. "You mean the morphine? We're trying to wean you off of it now that you've recovered. We can't release you from the hospital yet, since we still need to monitor you, but you should be healed."

I can't take any of this crap anymore. I push my blankets off and get off the bed, straightening my nightgown as I stand up.

"I'm taking a walk," I growl.

The nurse shakes her head. "I still need to finish your checkup. We need to get it out of the way before I'm needed with Miss Everdeen again."

I glare, and she holds her hands up in surrender.

"Just be back soon."

I nod my head, trying not to walk out of the room too aggressively. The poor woman's just trying to do her job, and I'm making her life difficult. On the other hand, this crap is getting out of hand. Mockingjay this, Mockingjay that. It's the same attitude among everyone here. Everyone acts like the Mockingjay can just snap her fingers and end the Games forever. But she isn't the only person who's responsible for this rebellion. There were and are countless people working behind the scenes, making sacrifices these lazy bums in Thirteen couldn't even begin to fathom. All while they've done what? Hid in a bomb shelter for the past 75 years while our children were slaughtered? They have a lot of nerve claiming that they're the saviors of the other districts, that if it weren't for them and Katniss we wouldn't even stand a chance.

I nearly bump into Katniss's quote-unquote "cousin" as I finally make my escape from the hospital wing. He jumps back in shock, and I stumble backwards into the wall. A lightheadedness begins to set in, and I find myself leaning against the wall for support.

The cousin, Gale, I believe, studies me closely before asking, "Shouldn't you be-"

I cut him off. "Doesn't matter. I'm out of here."

Where to, I don't know. Perhaps I'll go hide out in Finnick's room. Maybe Annie's, when she gets discharged. All I know is that there's no way in heck that I'm going back to the hospital.

Gale raises an eyebrow.

"I'm sick and tired of these freaks! They're prioritizing whoever makes a good show, and leave everyone else to rot! If it weren't for Peeta, they wouldn't have even thought about saving us!" I snap, pushing him out of the way.

I hear footsteps following close behind me, and Gale begins to protest as I move farther away from him. I break into a run, praying that he takes the hint and stays behind. What use is it to follow me, anyways? Anyone with a brain would know there's no use trying to convince me of all people to do the rational thing. It's like the nurse said- I'm recovering. If they don't need to fix me anymore, there's no use staying.

My legs wobble, and I lean against the wall for support. Exhaustion hits me like a truck filled of bricks, and my lungs feel as though they've been packed full of mud. I turn around as I gasp for air, and I'm greeted by the sight of an empty hallway. Good, I've lost him.

Alone at last, I stumble into the bathroom across the hall. The room is dimly lit by a single LED light, which flickers on and off. The stony floor is cracked, with chunks of concrete missing in the corner. A heavily-streaked mirror hangs above a simple sink, and a black hand towel hangs next to a construction paper sign reminding citizens to stay within their toilet paper rations. I almost laugh, but it catches in my throat and I end up hacking up blood instead.

I look at myself in the mirror, wiping the blood away from my mouth. The bags under my eyes are far more prominent than they were pre-Quell, and scratches and scabs cover my bald head. All my muscles have sunk in, leaving me stuck with a bony shadow of my former glory. I don't look like Johanna Ivette Mason anymore. Instead, I look like a failure who let the Capitol defeat her.

The blood on my hands stares into my soul, mocking me for my weakness. I scowl, leaning forward to turn the sink on. The sooner I can get cleaned up, the sooner I can figure out my game plan. If I have one, anyways.

My hand never makes it to the water.

The sight of it gushing from the faucet, the sound it makes as it hits the sink- it's all too much for me. My lungs start working overtime, trying desperately to save me, but they can't. I can't breathe. I can't think. I can't stand. Tears fall silently down my face, their moisture sending me into further hysterics. It's like I'm back in the Capitol, back in Nero's chair. The feeling of electricity burning my skin returns, stronger than ever, singeing my skin in its wake.

My own screams are the last thing I remember before I pass out.

 **...**

 **Hi again! I'm sorry it took me so long to update. I'm starting my senior year of high school soon, and there's a lot of personal things going on in my life right now, so I've been extremely stressed out lately. I've always had problems with anxiety, but lately it's been a lot worse. I just wanted to be honest with you about why you haven't heard from me in a while. Obviously I would never abandon this story, but I may need to take a bit of my focus off writing for a bit. I'm not taking a hiatus from the story, but I am taking one from that weirdly complicated update schedule I insisted upon. Thanks for understanding, and thank you all for reading my stories!**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor,**

 **-Spectrobes Princess**


End file.
